The Bitter Truth
by Sanru
Summary: It's every fan's dream to come face to face with their idols but that doesn't mean that the everything will turn out alright in the end. It's easy for your mind to be clouded from the dangers that lurk within their world. The grass may seem greener on the other side of the fence but, in truth, reality is a bitter pill to swallow.
1. Prologue: The Journal

Disclaimer: Not mine, though I wish that one day I'll be a millionaire and can buy them.

Author Notes: This is probably one of the oldest stories I have ever written and I must admit that proofreading this is a pain in the butt. I had horrible writing skills way back when. Beware the evils of foreshadowing.

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The Bitter Truth

Prologue: The Journal

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This was wrong on so many levels but he had made a promise to his Sensei, friends and brothers to figure out what was going on and he wasn't going to let them down.

She had been acting weird for the past few days, at least weirder than normal. On a normal day she could even out weird Mikey which was a skill that he wasn't even sure that someone could possess. What had been happening lately, however, was enough to even bring Master Splinter to him, asking questions that he had no answer too. It hurt his pride –even if he would never admit it out loud- that he just didn't know what was going on.

That had led him here, standing on her doorstep shortly after he had watched her leave, heading off to start her day.

That didn't make him any less uncomfortable. He still had issues going into Casey and April's apartment when they weren't there. It was a huge invasion of privacy, it felt so _wrong_ to break into a friends' home, even though he had been invited countless times and assured that it was okay. He didn't think it was okay.

Daontello heaved a sigh as he continued to look at the door leading into her apartment. He was stalling and he knew it. She had never gotten mad at any of them when she had come home in the past to find them lounging about her apartment. Of course, he was going to be doing more than just lounging. He was going to hack her computer.

Maybe that was why he was having such a hard time going into the apartment. He wasn't just going in to make himself at home. He was going in to hack her laptop while she was away at work. He knew it was for a good cause but that reminder still didn't help to get rid of the unease he felt.

For the past five days, she had been very un-her. She just sat around, typing feverishly on her laptop whenever anyone had seen her, all but ignoring the world around her. As far as he could tell, Donatello was sure that she was missing sleep and skipping meals to type. Her face the last few times he had seen her had been pale and her eyes had this haunted look in them that he had only seen her with a handful of times. Something was eating at her and whatever it was it had something to do with her laptop. When April found out that she had been calling into work sick for the past few days so she could type, Donatello knew that he had to do something.

When she had left earlier, she had seemed to be in a better mood than usual and from what he could tell she looked a little better. No doubt she had used some make up to hide some of her exhaustion but the happy bounce to her step was back. He hadn't even realized that it had been missing until then. She looked better, which was a good thing, but he still needed to know _why_ she had been so upset.

And the answer to that was somewhere on her laptop.

Steeling himself, Donatello reached up above the door frame and picked up the spare key hidden on the small ledge. She had left it there for them, in case they ever wanted to come over when she wasn't in. She still joked about having the best security system on and off the planet. Which she did. Professor Honeycutt and Leatherhead had helped him devise the most powerful security system possible with a combination of earth and utrom technology. No one was getting into her apartment without everyone knowing who it was and what they were doing.

He replaced the key after the lock clicked open and slipped into her apartment. He knew that a tiny, high powered scanner that he couldn't even feel did a quick DNA check on him, registering that he was not a threat and therefore did not set off any of the alarms. He relocked the door, silently wishing that they had never had to install such a measure before and reminding himself that is was necessary to make sure that Bishop didn't come back and try to take her again.

He stood for a moment and just looked around the small flat that she lived in. It had been part of a large open space up above April's three bedroom apartment that she had sectioned off and renovated part of into a small one bedroom apartment. The rest still held whatever April happened to find and gather up but the apartment had become all her own just in a matter of days after April had given it to her as a place to live.

Though the actual floor space was maybe five hundred square feet at best, the way she had spaced everything out and the way she kept it nearly immaculate made the room feel eight times larger. Five large windows that ran along the front of the apartment helped keep the place feeling open, despite the clutter of plants she had in the wide sills of each one. A series of short bookcases sat below each window and ran the length of the wall as well. Each shelf was filled with books, occasionally broken up by a small basket holding various items from who knew where. One shelf had been completely cleared off and a relatively small wakizashi that Usagi had given her sat there in a place of honor. He had told her to use it if she needed to defend herself and she still didn't have the heart to tell him that she had no idea how to use it.

Directly to his left, before the run of windows and bookcases, was a large television with various game consoles on the stand below it. He had never seen her play any of those and Don was fairly sure that the only reason they were there was because Mikey would come play them for hours on end. There was a small glass coffee table between it and the sofa and beyond that up against the back of the sofa was a desk that was actually a repurposed banquet table. He could see the laptop sitting on it from there, hopeful with the answers on it that he wanted.

He strolled for it, glancing off to his right at the open bathroom door and small kitchen. He paused and smiled down at the mess of dishes on the counter. She must have been running late to leave her dishes piled up on the island. The laptop wasn't going anywhere anyway and Don knew how much she hated coming home to a 'messy' apartment. She nearly had a hissy fit every time she went into Mikey's room or his lab (though he was doing a little better at keeping the clutter down then before she had started showing up on a regular bases). With the small smile firmly in place, Donatello gathered up the eight plates and the several pots and pans on the stove and washed them all in the sink.

That small chore done, Donatello couldn't help but peek in the bedroom door as he headed for the laptop. He chuckled as he noticed the teddy bear sitting as if it had a purpose in the middle of the neatly made bed. Even though he venomously denied it, everyone knew that Raph had given it to her way back when they had first met. As far as he knew it was still one of her most treasured possessions and she slept with it almost every night. That had a certain brother of his, who tried to pretend not to care, smile every time he saw her holding it.

Don sat down in the chair after moving a knitting project that she had left in the seat onto the couch and flipped open the laptop. He waited patiently as it booted up and then immediately began digging through the files once the computer was fully up and running. Other than the occasionally game or school project, Donatello couldn't find anything out of the ordinary. Her laptop looked as it always did when he had gotten on it in the past so what had she been working on?

On a whim, Donatello ran a file retrieval program and finally hit pay dirt, a large word document file that had been deleted rather late last night. His fingers drummed the desk as the file was retrieved from the depths of the recycle bin and he resaved it to her desktop. The file was simply called 'The Journal' and, fidgeting slightly in his seat, he opened it. Don quelled the insecurity and guilt that tried to rise up again. He reminded himself that he was just making sure that she was alright. After everything that she had been through for them, the least they could do was take care of and protect her, even from herself.

The document's first page was more of a title page, simply calling itself the journal and then listing her name below it. The second page had a small series of paragraphs on it. Out of curiosity, Donatello moved the mouse to grab the scroll bar off to the far side of the document and dragged it down to see the rest of it. He watched as page after page filled with writing raced by. Occasionally there was a break in the words but mostly it was just a blur of words that raced by until he reached the last page where a small, centered 'fin' marked the end.

Scrolling back to the top of the document, Donatello glanced at the clock. He had only been there for a little over an hour. She was going to be at work until four, as long as she followed her normal weekday routine, she would go to the gym and then her night class before starting for home. Leo had offered to keep her busy if he needed more time to figure out what was wrong so Don figure that he easily had sixteen hours of time to read and skim through this monstrosity before he had to worry about her catching him. He scrolled to what he considered was the foreword and began to read.

'_After everything that's happened, everything I've seen and experienced, I had to put it all down. Flushing out the demons I think is what this is called, I really don't know. I just had to put it down on paper, as if writing it out would make me really believe that this isn't all just a dream, that I'm not really dead or laying comatose in a hospital or something. To help remind me that I am alive and what has happened, really has happened. It still so unbelievable but even with my overactive imagination, there's just no way I could dream this all._

_As I said before this entire document is just to flush out my demons. I'll probably delete it when I'm done. I know that the contents of this document would put my friends –the closest thing I have to a family in this world- at risk. I couldn't imagine the fallout of what would happen if some of their enemies got a hold of this so I will delete it when I'm done, to protect them and myself. _

_I might be selfish writing this out but I have to do something. I feel like I'm being buried alive in the memories and nightmares I've been having lately. It's like there is something inside that I just need to get out and away from me or like there is a crushing weight that is slowly suffocating me. I think they would understand why I did this but I still feel guilty for needing to write this. I can only hope that if by chance they ever read this, they will understand and know that I am so sorry for being weak enough too possible put them all in danger._

_I'm so sorry, guys._

_Crystal Alexis Mesmer_'

Donatello leaned back in the desk chair, slightly disturbed at what he had read. Crystal was suffering from nightmares? It made sense that she would be suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder, he would have been more worried if she wasn't, but he couldn't recall seeing any symptoms. Her sudden writing spell was about the only thing out of character that she had been doing lately. She called it 'flushing out the demons', was this really all she needed to feel better?

Donatello sighed and went to the fridge to get a can of soda. This was going to take a while and it was not something that he was really looking forward to doing even though it needed to be done. Crystal was obviously suffering behind their shells and it was time to see how bad it really was. He silently berated himself for not realizing that she was hurting before all this and on a small level hoped that this Journal would shed some light on what he could do to help her.

He popped the tab on the can, and took a swig as he began to read.


	2. Chapter One: Into the Sewers

Disclaimer: Not mine, though I wish that one day I'll be a millionaire and can buy them.

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The Bitter Truth

Chapter One: Into the Sewers

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As melancholy as it sounds, I remember the beginning of this like it was yesterday.

I was done with high school, having finally graduated after four years of an emotional roller coaster ride that somehow had me ending up in the top twenty of the graduating class. Those years had their ups and there downs but through it all I persevered and came out a little bit more wiser than I had been as a frightened freshman walking through the high school's doors the first day.

With high school over and done with, I found myself moving onto college. After all the pressure my senior year of high school, applying to this collage and scrambling to write yet another essay asking for a scholarship, that summer seemed to be almost too peaceful. About the only thing I had left to do was to work the last few months at the little corner coffee shop I had been working at for the past two years and count down the days till I packed up my life and moved into a dorm room four states away.

At least, that had been the plan.

I was walking home one night, enjoying the somewhat quiet evening as frogs sang in the river next to me. There were few bugs out which was almost unheard of that late in July, which the gentle breeze from the south might have had something to do with it, but I wasn't going to be one to complain. I kept looking up at the stars that were just visible with the lack of street lights on River Road, picking out the few constellations that I recognized as I went. I didn't have a care in the world and the last thing on my mind at that point had been my future.

That all changed in a blink of an eye. I had heard the car coming up behind me but I had foolishly assumed that since I was walking so far over on the crosswalk that I would be safe. The first indication that I had that I was about to be hit by a car was the light that should have been on the road were suddenly right on me like a spot light. The sudden backlighting brought me out of my reflections with a gasp. I was in the process of turning my head to look over my shoulder when the squeal of rubber on asphalt reached my ears and caught nothing more than the brightness of the lights as I was hit.

Being hit by a car was… strange. I didn't feel any pain right away as I was swept off my feet and rolled up the car's hood. My elbow slammed into the windshield that I felt start to give way even as the momentum of the crash slid me across the hood. Whomever had been driving that car turned the wheel hard, causing me to slid even faster off the hood. I hit the ground hard, my right shoulder leading the way as the rest of my body flopped after it. My head bounced off the pavement, up until that moment I had been lucky that I hadn't hit it but my luck had finally ran out. Everything was a hazy blur of undistinguishable colors and shapes all overlaid with a tint of red. I remember rolling down the bank and the sudden cool, wetness that comes from hitting the water. After that… everything went away.

Dihydrogen monoxide is one of the most common chemical compounds on the planet. It can become all three phases of matter –solid, liquid and gas- yet is so common that most animals can't live without it for more than a few days. It makes up about eighty percent of a human's body and can be used in multiple ways for a wide variety of applications. In fact it is one of the most heavily used resources in the world. What isn't common about it is to suddenly come conscious after being hit by a car a good ten feet below its surface.

I panicked, automatically trying to draw in a breath of air only to flood my lungs with even more water. I choked and flailed, struggling to remember how to swim even though I was only barely awake. Somehow, my frantic movements managed to propel me upward and I broke the surface, coughing and hacking, desperately trying to suck in more air as I splashed about.

As the initial fear and shock of waking up underwater went away I started to realize how much I hurt. I had just been hit by a car and my right shoulder and elbow were killing me. Now that I was a little more aware of my situation it became easier for me to tread water so I pulled my hurt arm closer to me. I started to look around and it was then that I realized that I was not in the small river that had given River Road its name. I was not even in the right state anymore. It was overcast and foggy but I recognized the skyline. It was in numerous videos and movies.

I was in New York City.

To say I was bewildered was an understatement. Even today, after all this time, I still have no idea of how I managed to be transported here. No one I know has been able to figure it out. I just was.

I couldn't stare at the skyline for long. I was hurt and exhausted. My head was beginning to throb in time with my heart beat and I figured that I had better get out of the water before I really did pass out and drown.

I ended up swimming sideways, my right arm was in no condition to pull my body through the water. I was down near the piers so I had figured that it would be easy to find a ladder leading up onto the docks. Boy, was I wrong. It felt like I was swimming around the piers for hours before I finally found a landing with a ladder leading up to the pier. I floundered about trying to pull myself up onto the landing with one arm. Trying to so much as move my right arm caused pain to smolder around the shoulder and the elbow.

I finally managed to pull myself up onto the landing and took a moment to lay there and regain my strength. I felt like a wrung out dish rag that had been tossed into a laundry hamper. Still I knew I couldn't lie there all night. I needed to get to a hospital and then figure out how I ended up three states away from where I had been.

Climbing the ladder was a pain, no pun intended, and when I finally managed to reach the actual pier I was all but crying. I wiped at the tears marring my cheeks only to pull my hand away enough to look at it. It was smeared with red. I patted at my face tracing the trail of blood up to my forehead. It was a cut just above my eyebrow, maybe an inch and a half or two inches long, but it was deep and very tender to the touch. I was sure that I had a concussion.

I had to sit down for a few moments. I was dizzy, I was in pain and I was very confused. How did I get to New York? Was I hurt anywhere else? I looked over myself and was startled that my purse was still on. The cross over strap had amazingly held the bag to my hip this entire time. I flipped open the flap and unzipped the smaller of the two pockets. I doubted my cell phone would still be working but it was worth a shot.

The phone was officially dead. I couldn't even get it to turn on and I swore that when I shook it I could hear water sloshing around. I put it back in the purse and ignored the rest of its contents. There was nothing else in there that would help me at that point. My head was beginning to hurt worst and I needed to get help.

I stumbled to my feet, limping slightly as my left hip protested the movement, in search of either a telephone or a police officer. I could figure out how I got to New York later, it was more important to get medical attention especially since my head was still bleeding at a rather steady rate. I kept reaching up with my left hand to touch it which probably didn't help it any as I stumbled past the warehouses that were near to the piers. If I could get to the other side of those I was sure I would be able to find someone to get me help.

"Well, what have we here boys?"

I froze as the pain began to recede only to be replaced by fear. I did not like the sounds of that one bit. I turned and looked at the speaker unsurprised when I found myself looking at several men, all wearing clothes that were stereotypical to what most gang members would wear in a Hollywood movie. This was something I did not need right now. I took a step backwards as the man that appeared to be in charge leered at me. "Aren't you a pretty little thing."

"Stay away from me," I said in an even tone, surprised at how calm I sounded.

The men all smiled, sharing a knowing look with each other before looking back at me. "What? We can't offer our help? You look like you need it."

Yes, I needed help but the way they were looking at me was closer to that of a pack of hungry wolves than a group of men who were concerned over my wellbeing. "I fine but thank you for being worried about me."

The man's smile just seemed to grow more sinister. "Ya obviously need some help. I'm pretty sure we can help you with something at least." He took one step forward and that was the only excuse I needed to start running.

I had no clue of where I was going as I ran. I just had to get away. I could hear them chasing me and silently thanked that I was a cross country star for the past four years. Even with my limping gait I was out distancing the men chasing me even though I knew I wasn't going to be able to keep up this pace for long. Hopefully I would be able to find a place to hide or police officer. Anything would have been welcomed at that point. At least they didn't have a gun.

A crack and a ping off a parked car I ran by caused me to scream and duck down a small side road. So much for being glad that they didn't have a gun. I glanced over my shoulder as I ran causing me to trip and land hard on the tar. Luckily I didn't bounce my already aching head off the pavement but I tore the palms of my hands up as I caught myself.

I was breathing heavily as I glanced over my shoulder. I had put enough distance between me and them so at least they weren't around the corner yet but judging from their voices they would be soon. I stumbled to my feet to begin running again only to stop when I noticed a sewer vent by my feet.

It was the kind half hidden under the side walk. The kind you wouldn't notice unless you were bent down to tie your shoe. I was a huge fan of several cartoon series, most of which were from the various Teenaged Mutant Ninja Turtle franchise. I had all the series on Collector DVDs and enough of the toys that several of my friends had commented that my bedroom looked more like it belonged to a ten year old boy. Not that their opinion ever really mattered to me. It was my hobby to collect bits of my childhood that I loved. It still is, though it has gotten quite complicated now that I am here.

Anyway, looking at that vent, I had the darnedest image of April O'Neil slipping through one to escape some of Shredder's gang in the first episode of the old 1980's series. I decided that if it could work for her, it should work for me. I definitely couldn't out run them if they had a gun, either I would turn a wrong corner eventually or a bullet would find its mark.

I was on my stomach and backing through the vent before I could think any more on it. I was actually happy with myself, not only would I get away from these guys but I wouldn't have to worry about anything for a few minutes so I could collect my wits a little better. And my breath. However, I became stuck when I tried to wiggle my chest through.

Men may like them but I know more than a few women and girls who wanted nothing more than to get rid of them or in the very least make them smaller. I twisted myself this way and that as I frantically tried to get myself through the vent. I started to kick my feet back and forth hoping to create enough momentum to help get the last few feet of me through the vent. I had begun to panic when I heard the men and I whimpered when I thought I saw one step around the corner.

Then I just popped through, dragging my bag with me.

I sat there in the muck stunned after my less then graceful landing. I had actually done it. I stood up on shake legs and tried not to think about what I was standing in or what I had just been sitting in. I began brushing at some of the slime trying to get it off and listening to the punks up on the streets trying to figure out where I had gone to.

"Well lookee here," a sing song voice suddenly said. I looked up at the vent to see one of the men who had been chasing me looking at me. "You really are desperate, aren't you?" I gasped and ran again as he yelled back to his friends.

I knew I was in deep trouble when I heard the loud scrapping of a manhole cover being dragged aside behind me. I had run myself into a corner. There would be no help for me down here and I wouldn't be able to climb a ladder, lift a manhole cover on my own and crawl out before the gang members were on me. I had almost no upper body strength at the time. I doubt I would have even been able to lift a cover on my own.

A bullet ricocheting down the tunnel had brought me out of my thoughts and made me scream, half diving down into the muck covering my head. I had surged back to my feet almost instantly and ran as best as I could through the muddy water that came up to my knees. I really didn't think it was just mud but I didn't have time to think what the alternative was.

I kept running and dodging thought the tunnels, running through the twisting maze that I found myself in just trying to get away. Every time I heard a crack of a gun behind me I got as low as I could while still making some forward progress. Occasionally, a scream would slip pass my lips, especially if the bullet came really close to hitting me. I was scared, terrified, but the men chasing me sounded like they were having a grand of time of it, like I was some kind of animal that they were enjoying hunting down.

It was bound to happen sooner or later. I took a wrong turn and didn't realize it until I was almost to the wall that I had boxed myself in. I stared at the wall at the end of the dead end tunnel in disbelief. '_Oh, shit…_" I thought as I stared at it.

There was debris in that tunnel unlike the other tunnels I had run through, making it look like a half-submerged dump. I knew I had to get out of this tunnel and start running again but I didn't think I could keep going. I was finally starting to get too tired to keep running. Adrenaline and pure, raw terror can only take you so far. I had noticed several side tunnels that were boarded up on the sides of the dead end tunnel I was in. It was possible for me to hide there. If I could get the boards off before the men saw me climb in. I moved towards the nearest one but something dung into the side of my leg before I had taken only a handful of steps.

Whatever it was it was sharp. It tore into my upper calf and when I jerked my leg away from the pain it ripped an even wider gash through muscle and flesh. I bit my tongue and clutched at my left leg as I fell onto my knees in the muck. I tried to stand but could barely put any weight on it without blinding pain racing up my leg. The men were nearly at the mouth of the tunnel. I needed to hide. I swung myself around so that I was hidden behind something that looked like a very old rocketing chair, it wasn't much but it was about the only thing I could do.

I heard the men as they reached the mouth of the tunnel and began calling out to me. I knew better then to answer them. I was hurt, couldn't defend myself, and couldn't run anymore. I squeezed the cut on my leg with my hands and shut my eyes tight, staying still and hoping they couldn't distinguish me from everything around me.

That's when something happened. I didn't dare look, afraid it was just a way for those guys to get my attention. If I looked around my sanctuary, if I so much as moved, then I know I would have given them my position. So I stayed still and breathed as quietly as possible as I listened to what sounded like a fight at the entrance to the tunnel I was hiding in.

There were grunts and moans. Splashes and thumps. Laughter. Laughter? And what had sounded like taunting, lots and lots of taunting. The voices were muffled but there was something about them that was eerily familiar, like I had heard it all somewhere before.

The fight seemed to be over and I listen with bated breath as whoever had won the fight talked with each other. Their voices were pitched low and I couldn't understand a word that they said. I then heard them split up, the victors were all going in different directions by the sounds of it and one of them was walking down the tunnel I was hiding in.

I held very still as whoever it was came closer, barely making a sound as they waded through the watery stuff I was sitting in. My heart was racing and it was all I could do not to freak out and scream my head off. I like one of the girls in those cheesy horror movies who knew they were about to die and trying not to think about it. That was when he had stepped around the mess I was sitting behind, stopping barely three feet from me.

At first I was glad he hadn't seen me but when I got a closer look at him my jaw hit the floor. It was Leonardo. As in the turtle. Of the teenaged mutant ninja variety. The kind I watched on television all the time

"_What the hell?_"

I must've gaped or made some kind of noise because Leo had whipped his head around to face me. I found myself looking up into his calm but focused brown eyes. He looked a lot like the way they were portrayed in the 2007 movie. Sleek, yet still turtle like except they were slightly bulkier then the movie. Not overly large like they were in the 2003 series but heavier set then the '80's series.

He must've mistook my look of awe as a look of horror because ever so slowly he brought his hand up and said in a calming voice, "It's alright, I won't hurt you."

I forced myself to take a breath, held my head in my hands and shook it back and forth ever so slightly. "This is not happening," I said out loud. "This must be a dream." I was positive I was delusional. The Leonardo standing nearby was just some fevered dream that my head was concocting and I blame my reaction on that.

There was no way I was less than three feet from one of my favorite cartoon characters.

He stood still for a moment before slowly reaching down, "Here. Let me help you up."

I jerked away from his hand as if it was rabid dog. "Oh no," I said as I somehow struggled to my feet. My leg was screaming at me but I ignored it. I was more concerned that my mind was in the process of doing a belly flop off the diving board of reality and into the pool of insane than to worry about anything else. "If I touch you then I would have to admit you are real and then I would have to admit myself to the nearest psyche ward."

"You're hurt," Despite my rising panic, I rolled my eyes at him and nearly called him 'Captain Obvious' but I restrained myself. "That looks bad. You really shouldn't be standing on it. Here, let me help you." He reached for me again.

I stumbled backwards a few steps and he moved to keep up with me. "Stay away from me!" I shouted at him and then winced when I realized how loud that was. Now everybody who was anybody knew where I am. "Look, you're just a figment of my imagination so why don't you just figment your way out of here, Leonardo, and give me some peace."

His face played through a wide range of emotions before finally landing on highly suspicious. His body shifted slightly as if he was prepared for me to lunge at him and he took a step backwards. "How do you know my name?" he asked in all seriousness.

I rubbed the bridge of my nose trying to calm down slightly, if only to slow my heart rate and breathing down. I was nearly hyperventilating. In an exasperated voice I had said, "You're a cartoon, Leo. Figure it out."

He blinked like he was confused but was interrupted when he went to speak. "Wow, see you did find someone, dude," I knew that voice. It was the Michelangelo. Standing what sounded like right behind me. I jumped and let out a squeak, spinning to face him while still keeping me somewhat turned towards Leonardo. "And she hasn't fainted yet. Congrads, babe, most chicks would be passed out cold be now."

"Mikey," I said trying to get my heart to slow down a notch and clutching at my chest. I took another step back and felt the tunnel wall behind me. "Could you please not do that again."

There was a stunned silence for a second before Mikey said, "How'd she know that?"

Leo's eyes narrowed, "That's what I'm trying to find out." He turned his attention back to me. "How do you-"

I think that part of me snapped right there and then because before he could finish his sentence I exploded. "I've already told you! You are nothing more than a figment of my imagination from my favorite cartoon show! Obviously, I'll partly delusional because that's the only way I can justify the fact I'm having a conversation with you and Michelangelo!" I jabbed a finger at Mikey who had an expression on his face that was half bemused and half stunned. "So just shut up so I can think!" I then put my hands to my face and tried to control my breathing which had accelerated again.

They both were kind enough to stand there in silence, waiting for me to get semi composed enough to talk to again. "Alright," I had said lifting my head up and looking at them. "Even as figments of my imagination you two can help me get a few things straight. I am currently in the sewers of New York City more specifically somewhere in Manhattan, right?"

The two turtles looked at each other for a moment before Mikey answered with a confused, "Yeah."

"And those men who were trying to kill me I assume have been dealt with in some form or fashion?"

"Yes," Leo said.

"Good. That means no one will stop me from going to the nearest police station and going home." I had turned away from them and began to limp towards the entrance of the tunnel as fast as my leg would let me. As I past Mikey I paused and asked, "Which way to the nearest manhole cover?"

"You're not leaving until you tell us how you know our names," Leo said quietly from behind me.

He used a tone of voice that made the hairs on my neck stand on end. Firmly reminding myself that they were figments of my imagination, they couldn't touch me let alone hurt me, I glanced over my shoulder at him, "If you were paying attention earlier in the conversation then you would have heard me say that. You two are from a cartoon show. That's how I know about you, your brothers, Master Splinter, Leatherhead, April, Casey, Angel, the Professor who lives at the junkyard as well as Honeycutt, and even Mikey's cat, Klunk." Leo's eyes were large even as the rest of his face remained calm. "Now if you will excuse me," I went to leave again. "I want to go home."

Mikey was the one to stop me this time. He reached out and gently grabbed my wrist, "Hey, wait a second-"

That when I freaked. The only thing really going through my mind was an equation. My wrist, plus Mikey's hand, plus grabbing said wrist equaled he was real. He wasn't a figment of my imagination. He was very, **very** real.

I screamed which made Mikey let go of my hand because he hadn't expected me to scream that loud or jump back against the wall. "You touched me! You touched me!" I panicked gaping at him, trying my hardest to press myself through the brick behind me. "You're real! Oh my God! You're real! How can you be real?! It's impossible! You're a cartoon! You're a fucking cartoon! There is no way you can be real!" With that I turned to try and make a break for it only to be brought up short when I collided with someone's chest.

I tried to jump backwards only to be caught by a pair of arms that held me still. I could feel the smooth, worn surface of the plastron under my fingers, marred by deep scratches. I knew who this was without even having to look up but when I snapped my head up I was seriously unprepared to see a pair of angry brown eyes glaring right back at me. The red bandana only accentuated the scowl and with a little squeak I did the only thing I could do in that situation.

I fainted.

As the darkness swirled around me and pulled me under, I heard Mikey as if he was a long ways away say, "Figures that it takes your ugly mug to finally get her to pass out, Raph."


End file.
